(I've got to admit I borrowed, I couldn't think of anything bad!
)
Striding confidently between the man high isles, Engar pushed his half-full trolley while seemingly carelessly grabbing items off the shelf. His steady gait was unwavering - he knew where everything was and wouldn't be slowed in his journey.
Except..
Only for a second Engar glanced away, but when he looked back Cucumba was standing there, his imposing form making his surroundings seem pale in comparison.
"Here and now?" Not much of an opening, Engar admitted to himself, but he had been caught off guard.
"Here and now."
Waiting for no more warning, Engar stepped back and pushed his trolley forwards - the trundling metal mass rolling towards Cucumba in an impressive turn of speed. Using this spare second Engar assesed the surrounding walls and made a judgement. One hand plowed through the rows of tins and caught hold of the shelf, the other reaching up to the heighest ledge and pulling hard.
Seconds of scrabbling later Engar was on the top of the isle amongst the tins of soup, watching as Cucumba stared down the approaching trolley with disdain. He glanced up at Engar and smirked,
"Quite the display of courage, let me show you what I can do.."
Cucumba twisted in the direction of Engar's isle and kicked off the ground. His right foot met the secoond shelf solidly and still moving as it creaked in complaint Cucumba turned and kicked off it towards the opposite isle. Sailing right over the trolley, Cucumba landed on his left foot on the 5th shelf - he was now high enough to see over the isle.
One hand grabbed the top shelf and easily pulled himself up, allowing him to kick off and turn the holding into an impressive hand stand. Adjusting his grip, Cucumba smiled at Engar.
"Neat trick," muttered Engar darkly, "Quit fooling around."
"As you wish," Cucumba rocked forwards, then in a sudden movement pushed off from the shelf and did a gracefull back flip, landing on both feet on one of the only bare patches on the entire shelf. He paused and bowed to Engar who returned the motion with a nod, then leapt.
Both hands were held away from his body in opposite directions, hands curled like claws about level with his head. As he soured closer his right foot drew back while the knee bent, his left leg bent only slightly. All this passed in a second, from the moment Cucumba leapt to the moment Engar jumped awkwardly sideways and nearly lost his balance on the tins. Cucumba's right foot landed right where Engar had been, the impact rocking the shelves but not affecting Cucmba who turned - still on the same foot - and swept his arms around him.
One arm extended behind, the other waving for him to attack..
Screaming, Engar did just that. He leapt forwards and swung his right arm around with a quick blow to Cucumba's face. The blow never landed, Cucumba's extended arm swept around and easily knocked his own off course. Even as he did that Cucumba crouched with his other foot going back to balance him, the arm he had had behind him coming around under his other arm in an open palmed blow to Engar's chest.
The blow hurt more than he could imagine, he went from running forwards to falling backwards in a second filled with an explosion of pain and numbness.
Landing on yet more tins, Engar screamed in pain and rolled, in instinct, sideways. This brought him to and over the edge of the shelves; only one flailing hand managed to save him from a painful fall. Fearing death from above even as he climbed back up, Engar only dared glance at Cucumba when he was on both feet.
The warrior hadn't moved which was honorable.. or disrespectful, Engar wasn't sure which.
Rubbing his back with one hand, Engar stepped closer and considered his options. Cucumba was the better fighter - a practiced martial artist - which meant he would have to find his advantages elsewhere. For instance he worked in shops like this and he knew things. Where the bread and frozen things were. Where the floors never quite dried up. How painful a tin of soup could be to the head.
Ignoring the bruises on his back and chest, Engar did a half-jump, half-skip forwards and brought the hand around from his back. As Cucumba stepped back and weaved from the left to the right, his head bobbing in a deft yet never hurried display of skill, the tin in Engar's hand seemed to be burning with a grey inner light.
Swinging it like some sort of deranged modern-day version of a club, Engar took another step forwards as he drove it down from the right, turned on his left foot with the momentum and curled up his right leg before releasing it like a spring - catching Cucumba in a solid kick to the chest.
Stumbling more than flying backwards, Cucumba caught his balance just before falling. Not one to lose an advantage Engar took aim and hurled the soup tin overarm at Cucumba's head, the ancient terror though wasn't about to be stopped by a lunchtime snack, he ducked and the tin soared over his head.
The thing was that Engar wasn't looking to hurt him, he was buying time. The shelves weren't a good place to fight and Engar knew it, he needed to get to
lower ground. So he took a short run and a jump, landing a second later on another isle and continuing without pausing. He jumped and jumped, his 4th taking him to the other side of the store and the drinks isle.
He gave one quick look back and immediately regretted it, Cucumba was just landing on the isle behind him and not stopping. His right hand caught something in the panic and he dived towards the left, sailing away from the shelve but in such a way that he landed rolling on the shiney floor below.
Standing up unsteadily, Engar turned in time to witness Cucumba landing crouched on the ground before him. In his hands he easily gripped a 2 litre plastic bottle, when Engar looked he found himself holding the same thing.
"Ready to end this Engar?"
He swallowed down his nervousness and nodded.
"Of course."
They met hard, the bottles connecting with bone-shattering strength that shook Engar to the teeth. Still he couln't stop, he needed to be on the offensive. Spinning right around and using the momentum to bring up his strength, Engar came around with the bottle sailing towards Cucumba's head.
The bottle slid into the way in the last second, though Cucumba had some trouble using it to slow Engar's own one. There was a second, just a second, of uncertainty - then something deep inside that dark and mysterious warrior shifted gears and Engar found his bottle being forced back. And then, looking into Cucumba's eyes, Engar knew he could never win. And it annoyed him.
More than that, it enraged him. That someone could be that strong; that fast; that much better than him. It wasn't right. It wasn't
fair!
So, damning the enevitability of it all, Engar stepped back from the confrontation and brought his bottle straight down on Cucumba's with all the strength he could muster. Cucumba faltered, the bottle was too hard to hold and the blow too hard for him to be able to do so - the bottle bounced and danced down the shining floor as I spun around, still furious, and smacked the famous warrior in the back of the head with everything he had left.
Cucumba flew, actually flew forwards and caught his head hard off one of the shelves, causing it to shake so hard that bottles began to fall around them. Ignoring that for a minute, Cucumba turned and rubbed his forehead.
"Not bad."
More relieved than he could believe, Engar nodded happily.
"Not bad at all," the feeling faded slightly as realisation fell, it wasn't over yet, "Are you ready to continue?"
Engar stepped back while all the while, unnoticed, bottles of wine smashed off the floor and sent glass and alcohol shooting upwards in a display that was almost beautiful.